


Three Months?

by amoontea



Series: markhyuck galore!!1!1!! clikc for sum good tiem :-) [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: :3, Drabble, M/M, sitting in mark's car while they're stuck in traffic jam, that's basically it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 06:59:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17299940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoontea/pseuds/amoontea
Summary: Donghyuck and Mark;Sitting in the car;K-I-S-S-I-N-G.(No, not really.)





	Three Months?

**Author's Note:**

> henlo everybody!!111!!
> 
> this is me practicing cuz college has sUCKED me from my Privilege of writing fics in peace but here we are. iM ON MY BREAK!!!!!!
> 
> anyways, enjoy! :)

Whoever invented a car to be _this_ cramped is now cursed in Mark’s head. He has also regretted the fact that he was so adamant about buying this car in particular—a silver Toyota Corolla Altis. No big deal, right? (Apparently, it _is_ now)—but he wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

He has Donghyuck sitting next to him while he’s gripping onto the steering wheel, with both heels of his clammy palms pressed firmly onto it and his fingers spread out to let the cool air flowing from the AC slips through each one of them. Donghyuck, on the other hand, is fiddling (cutely) with his pinwheel that he’s holding with both hands, the wooden stick clamped between his thighs. He’s so in awe with how colorful it is: red, green, blue, yellow—it becomes trippy as hell when Donghyuck blows lightly on the flappy colored origami it’s made of, and it spins, slowly picking up the pace and the colors blending into one. He’s grinning wide now, and Mark hopes weakly Donghyuck fails to notice his own love-stricken face. It’s only when Donghyuck flits his eyes back up to the front Mark decides to also shift his eyes from the boy.

(By the way, just in case if any of you are wondering where Donghyuck got that pinwheel from, there happened to be a random kindergartener who just zipped through and, suddenly, there it is: between Donghyuck’s clasped hands, a pinwheel, the size of Mark's head, probably, which looks  _very_ fitting in Donghyuck's sweater paws.)

“Minhy—”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Mark sighs, and although it isn’t that much of a hassle on his part (and he kind of likes it when Donghyuck calls him that since only him could make it sound so…endearing, but that’s not the point), he just wants to narrow down the number of people who knows of his real name. Despite the sudden reprimand, Donghyuck giggles, and Mark’s heart skips a beat.

“Fine, Markie baby,” Donghyuck says, and regardless of how cheesy it sounds, Mark can feel his face heating up at the much appreciated moniker. This is one of those many times where Mark wants himself to get distracted with literally anything else, but stupid traffic jam isn’t going to let him escape. “Can I…like…hold your hand or something? My hands are cold.”

Mark seizes up before he, in a series of flustered motions, readjusts his grip on the steering wheel and softly presses on the gas pedal as the cars behind him are starting to honk non-stop, and someone might just stomp their way to his side of the car if he doesn’t move in five seconds. The simple yet unexpected request has him murdered. He’s dead now, he's sure of it, but his palms keep on sweating and his heart hammering through his ribcage. Crazy how Donghyuck always has that effect on him.

Shit. Is he  _whipped_?

Donghyuck laughs, noting Mark’s freaking out. “Dude, you realize we’ve been dating for three months now, right? Chill,” he says, peeling one of Mark’s hands from the steering wheel and entwines his fingers together with Mark’s. His breath hitches, and he silently hopes he won’t swerve somewhere off the road and hit someone and get jailed for it and Donghyuck won’t love him anymore and his parents will practically disown him and he—

Apparently, the other senses this, and he squeezes his hand. Hard. Donghyuck probably doesn’t know about it, but the energy he exudes is sometimes much more than he himself thinks, so Mark always has to bear the brunt of it all.

And, hey, he’s not complaining. He would only grimace a little bit, but it has that immediate influence to Mark as he slowly leans back into his seat. He knows Donghyuck is giving his all to him. If that’s not the cutest thing ever that Mark has ever experienced, then what is?

“And also, don’t fucking panic, but I think I accidentally left your phone back at the restaurant,” he suddenly says, voice dipping down into that of a whisper. Mark _has_ to groan out loud.

His boyfriend is a dumbass, too. Never forget.


End file.
